love of you runs deep in my vitals
by subitodolcediva
Summary: "Blaine smiles and settles his hand into Kurt's, twinning their fingers together with the practiced ease of a lifetime spent together." This is the story of Kurt and Blaine told, by Blaine, to their college-age grandson. Full summary inside!
1. prolouge

Why hello, hello, hello my lovely readers. Yes it has been far too long, but I've come bearing you gifts. First off, for those of you anxiously awaiting updates, "Kurt Does Kiwi" and "I Wanna Be Forever Young" will both be completed in the next two weeks. Yay for finishing what I started! :)

Secondly, I want to thank my new beta, cynicalwhimsy, over on LJ for being a brilliant sounding make quite the team and working with her has been just phenomenal.

Third...ly? Thirdly, I want to point out if you are looking for a happy, fluffy, smutty fic like you've grown accustomed to with me, this is not the story you're looking for. I have twelve other stories to satiate that need, but this one is a little different.

It all started with a poem, my irrefutable belief that Kurt and Blaine are indeed endgame and the urge to write something with more depth to it. **I have to warn for** **character death** because I don't want to trigger anyone and also because this thing is sad, guys. Really, really sad. But I hope that, despite this sad beginning, you'll be satisfied with what's to come. This story is a love story and a long one at that, so we will get to see the happy times, the intimate moments (because honestly guys, it's me. I can't _not_ write smut) and, yes, even more sad times. But I promise you, it will be worth it. This has been the hardest but most rewarding story I've ever written and I'd really love to hear what you all think. And, if nothing else, you know that will my new beta I _have_ to update regularly. So send me your reviews, pop me over a PM if you've got any questions, thoughts or (dare I say it) requests, and let me just say, it's wonderful to be back. 3-SDD

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><p><em>It all starts with a poem-<em>

Come close to me, oh beloved of my soul; the  
>fire is cooling and fleeing under the ashes.<br>Embrace me, for I fear loneliness; the lamp is  
>dim, and the wine which we pressed is closing<br>our eyes. Let us look upon each other before  
>They are shut.<br>Find me with your arms and embrace me; let  
>slumber then embrace our souls as one.<br>Kiss me, my beloved, for Winter has stolen  
>all but our moving lips.<p>

You are close by me, My Forever.  
>How deep and wide will be the ocean of slumber,<br>and how recent was the dawn!

-Kahlil Gibran, _The Life of Love #4_

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><p>Blaine has never been one for funerals despite the frequency they now seem to hold in his life. He supposes it has a lot to do with his optimistic personality or the fact that he hates to dwell on sad occasions. Either way, they always seem to leave him cold and in a bitter haze. Today's is not different. His suit feels scratchy against his skin despite Kurt's careful attention to detail in the area of laundering all their of formal attire and his throat is raw. He feels that his face is still damp with tears; it's been that way for the past couple of days and he can't help but feel they are going to become a permanent facet in his daily life.<p>

The room is small and immaculately decorated. The dark hardwood floors are shining in a way that looks absolutely stunning against the deep red curtains hanging from the large bay windows. Despite the windows, there is no natural light in the room. The chairs are a dark mahogany and every seat in the chapel-esque room is filled. There are even fifty or so people standing in the back of the room. In front of him there is a pulpit for the speakers and a large wooden table laden with photographs, newspaper clippings, concert programs, awards and tickets-all memories of a bygone era the family decided to indulge in rather than the formality of an open casket.

Blaine realizes that this is less of a burial and more of a press release however, he understands. They had to do something to quell the media, who had been aching for the last three days for a big public memorial and a heart-felt statement from the family. Blaine had told them to go to hell and to stop calling.

The room is full of muted chatter despite the occasion as the preacher heads to the pulpit. Kurt settles into the seat next to Blaine's. The years have been very kind to Kurt, who has spent most of his life attempting to look fifteen years younger than he actually is. He's doing well, not looking a day over seventy-two despite his actual eighty-seven. He's dressed in an extremely well fitted suit, the material clinging to his still lithe frame. His tie is a velvety black and his hair lies perfectly on his head, the brilliant whiteness of it only adding to the radiance of his pale skin. Blaine smiles and settles his hand into Kurt's, twinning their fingers together with the practiced ease of a lifetime spent together.

"I was about to send out a search party." Blaine teased lightly. Kurt scoffed and turned up his nose.

"If I haven't run off by now, I don't think I ever will. You're kind of a hard habit to quit." He grins, the wrinkles on his face a testament to a long life of laughter and companionship. A sudden rush of affection overwhelms Blaine, as though he's truly seeing Kurt for the first time.

"You know, you're still as beautiful as the day I met you," he breathes as Kurt settles against his side.

"I know. You aren't too bad yourself, Mr. Anderson-Hummel." Despite the jocose tone, he shoots Blaine a look that conveys just how much he truly believes it. Blaine watches as the preacher organizes his notes and clears his throat, effectively silencing the room.

"We are here today not to say goodbye to a beloved friend and husband, but to celebrate a long, happy life," He begins, eyes shining as he addresses the room. The preacher starts to drone on and Blaine feels himself getting restless. Kurt is playing with Blaine's fingers, stroking each one softly, fiddling with his wedding band, tracing lines across his palm. Blaine looks down at their hands and then up at Kurt. His blue eyes are bright and focused on his silly task.

"What are you doing, love?" Blaine asks gently, stroking a thumb over his husband's palm. It's a wonder how Kurt still manages to keep his skin so smooth. Kurt smiles softly, cupping Blaine's hand in his own before gingerly setting it down on Blaine's lap. The warmth from Kurt's hand begins to fade.

"Nothing-just thinking," he says, a sad smile crossing his features. Blaine furrows his brow, the preacher completely tuned out this point. Some woman to his right is sobbing abjectly now and he can hear sniffing from the row behind him.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, lightly pushing into Kurt's side. Kurt smiles, fingers skimming over Blaine's wedding band. Blaine's eyes dart instinctively to the matching one on Kurt's left hand. Even after sixty years of marriage, Blaine can't help but grow giddy at the thought that this beautiful man-his incredible soul mate, his wonderful Kurt-is truly his.

"I was thinking about our wedding." Kurt says quietly. Blaine smiles and rejoins his hand with Kurt's. He wants to kiss Kurt so badly, but the preacher is still talking and the people are still crying all around him and it just wouldn't be appropriate. Kurt can sense how badly he wants to though, and squeezes his hand in condolence.

"Later, dearest," he says throwing him a wink that draws a small chuckle out of Blaine. Blaine suddenly remembers where they are and hurriedly shushes Kurt. Seated next to Blaine is their daughter, Eliza. She hears Blaine quiet Kurt and a look of concern steals over her features. Blaine frowns. He really hadn't meant to be rude and he shrugs at her in apology. She stares for a moment before reaching for another tissue.

"Here you go, Dad." Eliza says as she quietly dabs at the tears on his face. Her eyes are a splotchy red and her make up is slightly smeared but Eliza Anderson-Hummel is still a remarkably beautiful woman. Her dark black hair is pulled up into a shiny bun on the top of her head and her dress is simple but elegant. Eliza always took after her Papa Kurt when it came to fashion and looks and Blaine couldn't be more relieved for that. She pats his arm briefly before leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"You don't have to stay if you want, Dad. I can have Hayden go get the car and he can take you back home or back to his and Emily's place if you want." Blaine smiles at her, reaching out with his right hand to squeeze the hand on his shoulder.

"I'm perfectly fine, dear. No sense worrying your brother over me." Eliza purses her lips and nods slightly, releasing his shoulder and turning back towards the front of the room.

Blaine smiles at her for a moment before turning back to Kurt.

"Stop getting me in trouble." Kurt places a hand over his heart, his face the picture of doe-eyed innocence.

"The accusations. Ah! I am appalled." He gasps dramatically. Blaine shakes his head and then remembers their conversation.

"Of course you're appalled-you're always so dramatic. You've been that way since the day I met you, my darling little spy. Now I am intrigued, though. What made you think of our wedding?" Kurt pokes his tongue out but looks thoughtful for a moment before answering.

"Just thinking about our vows. I do from time to time." Blaine nods in understanding. They'd opted for their own vows but had included some traditional elements so as to not be pegged as having one of the stereotypical gay stomp-all-over-traditional-marrige ceremonies that were popular at the time.

"Anything specific on your mind?" He asks helpfully, when he notices Kurt seems lost in his thoughts, a frown of confusion plaguing his well-worn face. Kurt nods slowly. Suddenly the room feels colder and Blaine can't feel the familiar pressure of Kurt's hand in his. He glances down again to see that their hands are still firmly clasped.

"I've been thinking about the whole 'in sickness and in health, until death do we part' thing. It makes me wonder if this is it, you know? If this is all we're going to get. It's the first question I'm asking up there. Well assuming there's an 'up' there and there's a someone to ask." Kurt grins at him and Blaine nods faintly, a deep feeling of dread washing over him as he stares into Kurt's eyes. The light and shimmer in them is gone, replaced with a blurry faded blue.

"Kurt...Kurt, who's funeral is this?" His throat closes on the word funeral. Kurt smiles a soft, sad smile. He cups Blaine's face with a cold, pale hand and presses a lingering kiss to his lips. Blaine sees it happen but he simply can't feel it.

"It's mine, Blaine."

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><p>Blaine can hear himself cry out as Kurt vanishes before his eyes, fear taking over his mind. He yells, cursing and hollering with all of his might, kicking and flailing as though a demon is trapped within his own body. It doesn't even feel like his body anymore. He can feel the movements but he feels detached, a secondary source witnessing his own destruction. The darkness envelops him and he's falling.<p>

But then, suddenly, he's not. He gasps for breath as strong arms steady him and lift him back on the bed.

"Easy there, Dad. You're okay. You're just having a nightmare. You're at home in your bed," a soothing and familiar voice states. Blaine blinks his eyes open and stares up into the familiar face of his oldest son, Hayden. He is in the guest room of Hayden and Emily's house. In fact, he's become a permanent presence in the house ever since Kurt's death more than two months ago. Blaine swipes a hand down his face, attempting to sit up as Hayden sinks down into the bed with him.

Blaine lets his eyes adjust to the soft glow of the lap that lights the room. Hayden is a handsome man in his middle age, his dark brown hair wispy and bed-mussed. His green eyes are full of compassion and his plaid pajama bottoms and hastily thrown on t-shirt are rumpled with the remnants of a deep, fitful sleep. Blaine feels a sudden surge of jealously. He hasn't been able to make it through the night since Kurt...well he just hasn't. It's too painful to drift into sleep without the feel of his husband wrapped in his arms. Sleep makes him forget but he always wakes in a panic when the memories come flooding back. The funeral, the phone calls, the white headstone. They blur together in his mind as though even his subconscious is trying to erase the memory. Every fiber of his being wants to fight the notion that Kurt won't just walk through the door with a smile on his face and a bag of groceries balanced on his hip or their great-granddaughter Ashyton bundled up in his arms from a walk in the park...

"Dad, I know these past few weeks have been hard for you..." Hayden begins, ready as ever to start into a speech about how much his family needs their patriarch back and how Kurt would have wanted him to continue on after he left. Blaine scoffs at that. He knows that there's more than one reason he's rarely left on his own now a days. His family cannot afford to loose both Kurt and himself in such a short period of time. And besides, he's never exactly considered suicide a valid option nor did he believe he'd have the will-power to follow through with it.

Hayden stops and looks at him carefully, as though he's looking for external injuries that he might be able to mend. Hayden is a talented surgeon, one of the most sought after cardiologists in the northeast. Blaine still remembers the day they brought home that toy medical kit for Hayden's fifth birthday and how he wouldn't take off the lab coat and stethoscope for three weeks after he got it.

"But I do have something that might make you feel better." Blaine stares at him in disbelief, as he's grown quite accustomed to every time someone has told him that in the past two horrible months, and it would probably almost be comical if Hayden wasn't looking like he was about to throw up for fear of upsetting him in anyway. He clears his throat.

"Elijah just got in a few hours ago from Iowa. He's home for summer break." Blaine stiffens slightly, the makings of a true smile beginning to form on his face before he can remember he isn't supposed to do that anymore. Blaine steadies himself against Hayden's leg and pushes himself off the bed, slipping into his slippers and rearranging his night shirt.

"Well where is he? I want to see him." Blaine heads for the door. Hayden laughs slightly and grabs his wrist before he can reach it holding him back from waking his sleeping son.

"Dad, it's two o'clock in the morning, let him sleep. He caught a plane literally right after his last exam when he heard that you were staying with us. We're having the rest of his things shipped." Hayden scowls a bit at this and it makes Blaine's heart soar. Elijah was always his boy through and through. Blaine shakes out of his grip and heads down the hallway.

"He's young, Hayden. He'll bounce back. I just want to see him. I haven't since..." Blaine frowns and halts as he remembers the last time he saw his favorite grandson. It's been over four months since Eli has been to see them. He's in graduate writing workshop at the University of Iowa despite his junior status and hasn't found a weekend to fly home since January. The last time he'd visited, Kurt had made his favorite meal, Italian wedding soup and homemade rosemary-garlic bread, and they had talked for hours about his post-graduation plans.

Eli was going to be a writer and a very good one at that. He and Kurt had bantered back and forth about where he would intern with Kurt playfully threatening to disinherit him if he didn't take at least a year's internship at the magazine. Eli shot right back with a similar threat for Kurt if he and Blaine didn't attend his next symphony concert. Blaine frowns. Eli's concert had been weeks ago. Shaking away the fond but painful memory, Blaine continues down the length of the hallway until he arrives at Eli's door, quietly turning the nob and allowing himself in.

The room's sudden inhabitance is obvious . A small blue duffel bag has been hastily thrown at the foot of the beautifully crafted mahogany bed. Next to the bed, the matching bureau is covered in the remnants of a nightly skin-care regimen that would even challenge teenaged Kurt's routine. The bureau is covered in pictures from the past ten years of Eli's life. A picture of a trip to Italy from his senior year of high school, one of Eli and his girlfriend Rebecca at an orchestral concert in New York City when he'd come home for Christmas break, one at attention in his marching band uniform with his saxophone pressed firmly in his mouth, a shot of Eli, Kurt and Blaine in England from when Eli was in the eighth grade and they had visited Shakespeare's home, a picture of Eli and his older sister Stephanie at his high school graduation.

The walls of the room are painted a deep maroon and covered with gold-framed prints of major novels from the last two centuries. Eli and Kurt had put them together two summers ago when they got bored and felt the spontaneous urge to redesign a room. The bed spread, being the original inspiration for the room, is a similar maroon with alternating small and large bands of gold streaking across it in every direction. It was a pricey find that he and Kurt had picked up on their trip to India a few years back but it was worth it for the grin and tight hugs they'd received in return. Sheet music, pens and leather bound writing journals cluttered the desk that was built into the wall in the corner, a testament to his father's design of the house. A guitar sits propped up against a saxophone case in the corner. Eli's prized possession, his violin, must still be in Iowa, he thought suddenly.

Blaine's eyes finally fall on the sleeping figure in the bed. His breath catches for a second. Eli Anderson-Hummel is the living, breathing vision of a young Kurt-with only a few minor differences. Eli's eyes are a striking green, like his father's; his frame is slightly larger than Kurt's had been; and his hair is never styled the way Kurt had liked to style his own. Eli prefers to wear his hair messily with short brown tufts falling this way and that. He had once told Blaine it's only to embarrass his father at formal functions, but Blaine has decided it's less of that and more to differentiate himself from his Granddad.

With a contented groan, Eli turns onto his back and blinks a few times. The light of the hallway floods the room and causes Blaine's shadow to fall across his form.

"Grandpa?" he questions a sleepy smile lighting up the room more than the lights from the hall ever could. Blaine lets himself smile back, a genuine smile, something that he hasn't done in months. For the first time, looking down at this boy, this testament to the growth of the family that he and Kurt created together, Blaine has as sense of...purpose. The idea that he had a hand in raising this extraordinary boy-who is currently raising an eyebrow and smirking at him in the same playful way Kurt always did- is grounding. Eli scrambles out of bed, not even bothering to be embarrassed by the fact that he's wearing nothing but a pair of blue and white striped boxers, and hugs Blaine like a long lost friend. And Blaine hugs him back, close to tears, as his grandson latches onto him even more tightly.

After an eternity, they pull away. Blaine can feel his smile has widened and by now he's grinning from ear to ear

"I know it's late...or rather early, come to think of it..." Eli says in a low, gravely voice that Blaine attributes to a full day of traveling. "but do you wanna go grab a burger at that diner on Sixth Avenue? I haven't eaten anything since the highly questionable tofu and broccoli stir fry the quad was serving at lunch yesterday." Blaine laughs, clapping a hand down on the smaller boy's shoulder.

"Anything for you, Eli. Let me grab my jacket." Eli flashes him another grin and looks down at his current attire, blushing slightly.

"Yeah I better...I better put on some pants..." he mumbles, reaching for his duffel bag as Blaine leaves the room to collect his jacket, the grin never faltering on his face.

* * *

><p>Three weeks pass before Eli mentions anything about Kurt's passing. Of course they've talked about him, reminiscing about days passed over coffee, television and walks through a city that still hasn't lost it's charm in Blaine's eyes.<p>

The days flow easily enough and Blaine begins to finally feel alive again in the time he spends with Eli. They talk about everything together, from Eli's school work to how he's almost finished up his English degree despite the semester he took off following his sophomore year to participate in Drum Corp as a drum major for the Phantom Regiment Drum and Bugle Corp. Blaine still remembers the brilliant high brassy sound and the pounding of the drums as they shook the stadium. The whole Anderson-Hummel clan had flown out to see his Corp perform at the international championships. They had come in forth, but the look on Eli's face as he greeted his band with the trophy showed how truly worth it the experience had been.

They also discuss Rebecca and how she will be flying out of Chicago to spend the last few weeks of the summer in New York City with Eli. Eli's eyes sparkle when he talked of his girlfriend of over two years in a way that makes it obvious that he's going to ask her to marry him soon. Eli doesn't even know it yet, but Blaine can see it in the way he carries himself when he says her name. He relaxes into the chatter, going on and on about her music education degree, her senior voice recital and the tiny school she student teaches at in Chicago. It warms Blaine's heart to know that even after he's gone there will be someone around to take care of Eli.

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><p>It's a lazy hot day in June when Eli first approaches him with his brilliant idea. Eli must complete a non-fictional paper of at least forty thousand words for his graduate school over the summer. As a tribute to his Granddad, Eli decided he wants to write the story of how his grandparent's met, fell in love and created a life together at a time before the acceptance of his own generation had come about. Blaine immediately shoots him down when he draws out his plan that afternoon.<p>

"But Grandpa, it would be good for you!" Eli protests, his hands flying up to aid him in his argument. They are sitting out on the terrace of the family's apartment in upper Manhattan lounging in deck chairs with two tall glasses of ice tea resting on the small wicker coffee table between them. Blaine shakes his head offering Eli a sad smile in return for his exasperation.

"Eli I've lived a bit longer than you. I think I can decide what's good for me," he says gently, sipping his tea.

"Well you can't always be right, Grandpa. Remember the shrimp incident?" Blaine pales.

"I ordered it without shrimp and specifically told them your mother was allergic! Your Granddad was lying if he told you otherwise," he huffs. "besides, we got her the epi-pen in time and we got free entrees for our next three visits so I consider that a win."

Eli rolls his eyes at him and Blaine reaches over to lightly smack him in the back of the head. He'd be more annoyed if it isn't so eerily reminiscent of his husband's own sarcastic looks; the smack comes off as more of a gentle tap than anything. Eli still jerks away from the contact, his hands petting at his hair to repair the damage.

"Grandpa, don't mess up my 'do. The 'do is sacred." Blaine crosses his arms without responding, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair, allowing the bright summer sun to warm his face. Eli is quiet for a few minutes before trying another tactic.

"It might make things easier for you." Blaine scowls.

"Eli. I'm not doing this. End of discussion. Why don't you go grab your guitar and play me some of that Indian meditation music you're in to?" Eli sighs heavily but he slips out of his chair and heads inside to fetch the guitar in question.

* * *

><p>Eli waits a few more days to bring up the subject again. This time they are out and about on their way to lunch at a favorite English pub of theirs for the fish and chips special. Eli and Blaine walk side by side discussing their plans to see a show later that evening when Eli stops and points to a magazine at a newsstand they pass.<p>

"Who's running it now?" He asks quietly. Blaine frowns. He still hasn't called back Kurt's office and has no intention to. He shrugs.

"Hell if I know. Probably one of those sniveling interns your Grandad couldn't stand." He laughs, the jab a long standing family joke. Kurt hated the young interns at the magazine who walked around like they owned the place. One of his greatest satisfactions towards the end of his life was watching them like a hawk for a good excuse to throw them out on their fashionable, tightly-clad rear-ends.

Eli rolls his eyes but presses the conversation onward.

"You know, I bet the magazine would love to read a piece about you and Gran-" And just like that Blaine closes himself off again.

"Absolutely not. I don't care how many years Kurt spent at that magazine, they aren't getting a word from me." He growls out. Eli looks as though the words are a physical blow and Blaine immediately regrets the harsh tonality of them. He pats Eli on the shoulder slightly as they continue on down the street. He quietly ushers him into the restaurant a few minutes of tense silence later and soon they both forget the incident.

* * *

><p>Not even two days later they are at it again. But this time, it's a full fledged argument. The rest of the family is out at one of the quarterly board of trustee's formal dinners but Eli and Blaine opted to stay home and watch old movies and order in. The boxes of Morocco beef and rice lay empty on the kitchen table and they are thoroughly engrossed in Eli's favorite movie, regardless of season, <em>It's A Wonderful Life.<em>

They've just gotten to the part where George offers to lasso the moon for Mary when Eli sighs contentedly against his shoulder.

"Would you have lassoed the moon for Grandpa?" Blaine smiles fondly down at Eli. The question is so childish, so immature that he knows Eli is patronizing him but the gesture is heart-warming.

"Kiddo, I would've lassoed the moon, Mars, all the stars and Jupiter for your Grandpa if he'd wanted them." He chuckles at the idea and Eli nods in understanding against his shoulder.

"Wow...I bet your relationship was quite the story." He comments innocently. Blaine sighs but agrees with him.

"It really is, kid." And with that Eli pops up to sit back on his heels, the look on his face the picture of a kid on Christmas morning.

"So that means you'll do it?" He asks excitedly. Blaine glares at him for a moment, the anger at his Grandson's foolish insistence on a project he wants nothing to do with finally coming to a head. Not wanting to fight with Eli, Blaine huffs angrily and leaves the room, headed back to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Eli follows him. _Damn you, Kurt._ Blaine suddenly thinks. _Damn you for giving him your stubbornness._

"I just don't get why you're acting like this. All I'm asking you to do is tell me about your life with the man you loved. You never stop talking about him anyway." Eli snaps, rushing in front of Blaine to face him with a hurt look on his face. Blaine scowl at him and crosses his arms. Sometimes the best thing to do with Kurt (and in later years, Eli as well) was to let them have their fit and then diffuse it once the rage worked its way out. Eli glares at him and presses on, impassioned by the lack of response he's getting from Blaine.

"All you do is talk about how great things used to be. It's the only time you're really happy is when you're talking about Granda-Kurt." Blaine frowns at the use of his husband's first name, a familiar sense of affection latching on to the word like it's a lifesaver to get him through yet another trial of someone trying to help him through a pain they will never fathom. Eli can see the way Blaine's body tenses and it drives him forward again.

"You are never going to get better unless you get it out, Grandpa. It's going to stay stuck inside you, it's going to follow you _to your grave_ unless you get it out. And part of dealing with that pain can be looking back on what you had. It would do therapeutic wonders for you!" Eli takes a step back and crosses his arms as though bracing himself for the verbal onslaught he knows is coming. And Blaine is ready to dish it out.

"Elijah. You are twenty-one. You can barely drink let alone even come close to imagining what I'm feeling right now. When you give yourself to someone like your Granda-like Kurt and I did, you don't just do it once, in a silly little ceremony with rings and vows. You do it every single day for the rest of your life. And now I've got all this-this life, all that's left of who I am, to pour into somebody, all this commitment that I can't give up anymore. When I lost...when I lost Kurt, he took most of me with him. Or at least everything that made me decent human being. I'm never getting that back, Elijah, and it makes me want to _die_. You don't know...you don't know how many times I wake up_ furious _that I didn't die in my sleep and that I have to go another whole day without the love of my life by my side. Don't you dare..." Blaine in shaking at this point, the tears wracking his frame and for the first time he can truly see how young Eli is, staring back at him with a mix of unconcealed horror and sorrow. "Don't you _dare_ talk to me about therapy. There is no getting over this. This is all that's left of me so you damn well better get used to it or leave me alone."

Blaine collapses against the counter, his hand gripping onto the surface so tightly his knuckles are completely white. The tears are flowing freely now and he wonders vaguely if this is what heart attack feels like. Suddenly Eli is there, strong and young and looking so much like the man he lost that Blaine can't even bear to look at him as he hugs him around the waist. Blaine just sobs pitifully into his shoulder as Eli rubs circles into his back and squeaks out little noises of comfort. Blaine wonders how this must look, a broken old man weeping like a child into the shoulder of his barely-an-adult grandson. He tries not to dwell on it as he begins to compose himself.

"Grandpa...you know...you know you need to do this. If not for yourself, you need to do this for Kurt." Eli whispers into his ear. Blaine nods, feeling detached again and he wonders if he's going to wake up again only this time back in bed with Kurt's nose pressed into his neck and his hands curled around his waist. He waits a moment...but he doesn't wake up.

Eli leads him over to the couch and helps him sit down before darting back to his room. He comes back with a large leather bound book and an ink pen. Blaine looks from him to the practically archaic writing materials in mild confusion as Eli settles down next to him.

"I thought you'd want to use something a little more...high tech, Eli." He grumbles, crossing his arm as he sinks back into the plush leather. Eli shrugs noncommittally, a lopsided smile stealing across his face.

"I felt like your story deserved something a little more poetic. This way you don't have to feel pressured to get the story out there. We can just keep it in the family, if you really want. But we need this, Grandpa. We need to know the full story." He concludes seriously, taking a hold of Blaine's hand for a moment. Blaine nods again, relishing the momentary contact. Eli feel's nothing like Kurt, but the gesture takes him back.

"Where do we start?" He croaks feebly as Eli opens the notebook and writes out a working title. The pen finds his way to his mouth and Blaine almost laughs. Eli always does that when he's writing.

"Hmm." He says after a long while.

"Let's start all the way back to when you first met. Do you remember that, Grandpa?" Blaine smiles softly and nods.

"How could I ever forget? I met your Granddad...I met Kurt Hummel on the grand staircase of Dalton Academy back in November 2010..."


	2. chapter one

****A/N: Reviews are LOVE. I promise this story gets better, friends. Give it a shot! :)

**Westerville, Ohio November 2010**

Blaine can practically feel his excitement vibrating out of his skin as he hurriedly shoves his books into his locker. Today is Friday. Today is his third public performance as lead soloist for the Warblers and his first performance for his peers. Wes had mentioned the potential "impromptu" performance on Tuesday, warning him to have the lyrics down by Friday afternoon. Thankfully, they'd gotten called out of class early to ready themselves and Blaine was given just enough time to calm his buzzing nerves. So really it was less "impromptu" and more "tactfully planned" but the purpose would still be fulfilled. This was to get them ready for Sectionals and, as lead soloist, it was his job to deliver a performance that was worth talking about. Blaine sighed to himself as he shoulders his bag and carefully shuts his locker with a soft click.

It isn't that he doesn't believe that the performance will go well; he's confident enough in his own voice and preparation to know that he'll be just fine. It's just that he's running late because his math teacher made him stay to finish his quiz and most of the Warblers will already be there ready to go and waiting on him and he's not really sure he remembered to put his history notes back in his bag and-shit, shit, _shit-_was that the bell already?Blaine watches as his classmates dart out of the various classrooms that line the hallway, chattering excitedly. He overhears a lot of people talking about heading over to the senior commons to hear the Warblers and when someone says they think the performance has already started, he flies down the hallway like a bat out of hell.

He slows down slightly when he sees Nick only a few steps in front of him and breathes a little more deeply when he spots David at the bottom of the stairs. A few paces later, Blaine is nearly caught up with David when he's stopped by a small noise behind him.

"Excuse me!" A clear, high voice calls out. Blaine turns and is met by a pair of stunning blue eyes-

"Honestly Grandpa? You're going to start off like that?" Eli bemoans as his pen stills. Blaine gives his grandson a hard look.

"Well? What would you have me say? Kurt's eyes were beautiful. They were wide and this extraordinary gray-blue. Completely breath-taking." Blaine states the last as fact, a goofy grin appearing on his face as he recalls his husband's eyes. Eli, in turn, rolls his eyes and taps the end of the pen to the page.

"Oh no. I have no doubt about that. Granddad's eyes were quite pretty," he admits, amusement and warmth coating his words. "But this is the true story. What did you really notice about Kurt the very first time you laid eyes on him?" Eli cocks his head to the side and grins at Blaine. Blaine crosses his arms and avoids the knowing look he's getting.

"Fine, fine. You're so pushy!" he huffs.

Blaine turns and is met by the sight of a boy who is clearly out of place in the mass of students.

Eli nods. "Better, much better. Go on."

He's slim and tall, with pale skin and soft looking chestnut-colored hair. His blue eyes have a hazy look of confusion about them.

"Um hi, can I ask you a question...I'm new here," he admits quickly despite the evidence of hisstatement in his clear lack of uniform. He's dressed in what Blaine can only assume is a fashion designer's ideal prep school uniform. Despite all his trouble, Blaine thinks, he's still so far from fitting into this crowd.

"My name's Blaine-" he offers his hand, smiling at the taller boy, shakes it firmly. He seems so nervous, completely out of his comfort zone. The least Blaine can do is offer him some kindness. The boy smiles gratefully.

"Kurt," the boy breathes back before continuing. "So what exactly is going on?" Blaine grins. Now that's one thing he can answer in confidence. The adrenaline of his impending performance floods him and he suddenly wants nothing more than to show this nervous new student his favorite thing about Dalton.

"The Warblers!" he says brightly, "Every now and then, they throw an impromptu performance in the senior commons. It tends to shut the school down for a bit." He glances in the direction of the senior commons a few times during his little speech to be sure he can still see a few Warblers ahead of him. As much as he doesn't mind helping Kurt get his bearings, he doesn't want to miss this and risk losing his position in the Warblers. Kurt's eyes widen slightly.

"So, wait-the glee club here is kind of cool?" he asks, a mixture of surprise and delight flitting across his face. Another easy question.

"The Warblers are like rock-stars-" Blaine spouts off vauntingly. It's more or less true. Since when had any other student-led group been allowed to create such chaos out of the exceptionally formal school?

Eli burst out laughing and Blaine frowns.

"What? What's so funny?" he demands. Eli gently sets down his pen and stares contemplatively at him.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. You were just so cocky, Grandpa. Poor Granddad!" he teases. Blaine rolls his eyes.

"Poor Granddad? Eli you don't even know. We haven't even gotten to Granddad's competitive streak yet. And I was a stud back in the day. Haven't you seen my wedding video?" Blaine grins back at Eli who shakes his head.

"Can't say I have. That was kind of before my time. Besides, we've got a while. Let's get back to Blaine, Kurt and the Warblers." Eli picks up the pen again

Kurt quirks an eyebrow at him and Blaine knows he's got to stop talking the talk and start walking the walk. And soon-the hallway has completely emptied out by now, leaving the two of them alone on the grand staircase.

"Come on, I know a short cut." Blaine grabs Kurt's hand, which is soft and firm, without a second thought, pulling the taller teen behind him as they race down the corridor. Soon enough, he's opening the door to the senior commons. Relief floods through him when he sees the disarray of the room. He releases Kurt's hand and turns to face him. Kurt's eyes are scanning the room with an unconcealed look of awe.

"Oh, I stick out like a sore thumb," he says shyly, a small smile still present on his face.

"Next time don't forget your jacket, new kid," he says, adjusting the lapel of Kurt's jacket. "You'll fit right in." He pats him on the shoulder and Kurt beams at him, shifting slightly from foot to foot. Blaine hears the opening notes of the song start behind him and he knows that it's time. "Now, if you'll excuse me." He says, strolling over to his spot in the formation just as he starts his solo.

"_Before you met me_

_I was all right_

_But things were kind of heavy_

_You brought me to life_

_Now every February,_

_You'll be my valentine..._

_Valentine" _

Blaine watches Kurt's expression, a mixture of surprise and excitement at Blaine's leading position in the Warblers. Blaine has the decency to at least feel a little embarrassed over his rock star comment from earlier as he starts the pre-chorus.

"_Let's go all the way tonight,"_ he sings as they start to side step and snap in time to the bass line. _"No regrets, just love. We can dance, until we die. You and I, we'll be young forever." _The energy of the performance crackles throughout the room as they hit the chorus. The students are really getting into the music, fist pumping and generally jamming out as they always do.

"_You make me _

_Feel like I'm living a _

_teenage dream_

_The way you turn me on_

_I can't sleep_

_Let's run away _

_And don't ever look back _

_Don't ever look back"_

Blaine glances at Kurt again as they sing the pre-chorus through a second time. He looks beside himself with the crowd's reaction but Kurt's smiling at him like he's the greatest thing on the planet which just makes this performance that much more special.

They finish up in a classic, tight formation with their hands clasped in front of them. It was a favored position to end with because of their stark contrast to the flow of the movements in their songs. He quickly signals Wes and David to follow him and he meets up with Kurt, who is over the moon with praise for their number.

"Hey would you like to come get coffee with us? We'd like to have a word with you." Blaine asks gently. Kurt freezes like he knows he's been caught and nods sheepishly so they grab coffee from the little kiosk outside the dining hall and make themselves comfortable in one of spacious the dining rooms. They quickly discover that Kurt is indeed a member of the McKinley High School New Directions, the Warbler's competition for Sectionals, just as they had suspected. But Blaine has the feeling that there's more to Kurt's story than just scoping out the competition.

So he asks and it's just as he'd feared. Kurt launches into his story of how he's constantly bullied at his school for being the only out-and-proud student and no one seems to care. Blaine feels a pang of regret as he remembers his own experience with bullying and how it had driven him to Dalton. Blaine never had trouble in school until seventh grade when he'd finally come out to his parents and his small group of friends at Walnut Springs Middle School. His mother and father looked disappointed but they begrudgingly accepted him. Of course his mother continually talked about 'how sweet Julie's daughter is' and 'oh she's just your age, Blaine, dear.'

Not to mention his father started forcing him into "male bonding time" which involved firing lessons at the gun club, car shows and all the Buckeye home games they could get tickets to. Admittedly the last one was exciting and he did enjoy spending time with his Dad but it always felt like there was a catch. For example, they could go to the game on Saturday, but that meant Blaine would miss rehearsal for the school play and he'd have to turn down the part. Blaine knew his Dad wanted him to be happy but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he'd always want more out of Blaine than he could give.

His friends were even less supportive, sadly. They took his confession with stoic nods of acknowledgment but other than that they said nothing. Blaine remembered the first time someone had yelled at him to "move out of the way, you little faggot" in the hallway after his freshman English class. He froze in shock as the older boy who had slung the insult at him shoved his way past with a grunt.

The insults started to become a daily occurrence and the first day he'd come home with a black eye after telling a burly freshman football player to "back off", his mother had cried and demanded he transfer. Blaine was devastated and argued that if he could talk to the administration, maybe the bullying would stop. So he went into the principle's office on Monday morning and told her his story. She smiled and patted him on the hand, telling him 'We'll do everything we can.' and sent him off to class. Blaine wasn't too eager to see results after he found his bike tires slashed that afternoon.

The truth was he hated his school but he wasn't ready to leave behind his friends and especially wasn't ready to leave Steven. Steven was his first real crush. Steven was a fair skinned, sandy haired boy of fourteen when Blaine met him and fell for him over late night monster movie marathons and games of tennis at the YMCA. He'd moved into the school district Blaine's eight-grade year and the two had easily hit it off. And when Steven told him he was gay in a conspiratory whisper late one Friday night Blaine could proudly tell someone that he was too for the very first time.

About two months later, the two were on the cusp of dating-not-really-dating when Blaine plucked up the nerve to ask Steven to the Sadie Hawkins dance. To his shock and delight, Steven had agreed and Blaine had spent three whole days deciding what polo shirt looked the best with his jeans. The dance had been fun, nothing extraordinary really, and Blaine was excited over the prospect of getting to kiss Steven good-night after Blaine's mom dropped him off.

As they waited outside the gym, glancing around for their ride, five larger boys came over towards them.

"Hey faeries, have fun at the dance?" One of them called, his face twisted into an expression of mockery and disgust. Blaine held up his hands as the five boys crowded in, too close for comfort.

"Look we don't want any trouble. We're just waiting for our ride." he said, voice quivering ever so slightly despite his attempt at bravery. The gang members snorted at him and the boy closest to him gave him a little shove. _Russel_, Blaine thinks, his name is _Russel _and he's in algebra with me. Russel sneers at him and shoves him again.

"Yeah? Well maybe we aren't out looking for trouble, queer. Maybe we're about to teach you a lesson."

Blaine can feel his heart beating in his throat as he pushes Steven behind him and Russel's fist collides with his nose with a sickening crunch. The pain is excruciating but he some how manages to stay on his feet, staggering backwards into one of the other boys. The boy grabs Blaine and steadies him as Russel knees him in the ribs, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He can feel the steady trickle of blood down his face and realizes faintly that his nose must be broken as the gang closes in on them.

After that beating, Blaine's parents immediately pulled him out of public school and enrolled him at Dalton. He didn't argue with his parents this time, especially now that Steven was being home schooled. There was no reason for him to go back anymore. So he moved forward and tried his hardest not to look back. To shove aside his regret of not fighting to get justice. To push away how easily he caved to his parent's demands over a broken nose, two chipped teeth and several severely bruised ribs.

So he tells Kurt the shortened version and he encourages him to stand up for himself. His own hypocrisy settles uneasily over him as he watches Kurt's tear streaked face from across the table. "...you can refuse to be the victim." Kurt looks at him warily but there is something behind the expression that speaks volumes, hope? Realization? Whatever it is, it drives him onward. "Prejudice is just ignorance, Kurt. And you have the chance right now to teach 'em." Kurt stares back at him.

"How?" he breathes. Blaine steels himself as he tells Kurt what he'd only wished someone had told him a year ago.

"Confront 'em." Blaine says. "Call 'em out. I ran, Kurt...I didn't stand up. I let bullies chase me away and it is something I really, _really_ regret." Blaine nods a bit as he finishes his little speech. Kurt remains frozen for a time and Blaine can see Kurt is lost in his thoughts. He waits it out and after a moment or two, Kurt thanks him quietly.

They finish their coffee in silence and then Blaine offers to walk Kurt to his car. With a smile and a faint blush, Kurt nods and allows himself to be led from dining room out to his car in the guest parking lot. Kurt slowly climbed into the car, one leg dangling off the ground as he settled himself into the seat.

"Hey Blaine, " he said, blue eyes piercing Blaine's own hazel. "Thanks...for everything today. You don't know what it means to me know that...that there is someone out there who's been here before..." He trails off and quickly looks away. At that moment, the muffled sound of Rihanna's _Only Girl in the World _permeates the air. Blaine stifles a laugh at the exasperatedly embarrassed look on Kurt's face as he shoves his hand in his pocket to silence his phone. This boy is so unreal and at the same time exactly the person he needs in his life. The contrast is maddening.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry!" Kurt gasps, cheeks tinged red as he averts his eyes. "It's probably my dad wondering why I'm not home yet." He groans as he reads the text message. Blaine nods in understanding. Kurt moves to put the phone away but Blaine stops him.

"Hey wait." he says, closing a hand around the phone. Kurt raises an eyebrow at him as he punches his number into the phone. "Call me if you ever need anything, okay? You're not alone in this." Kurt smiles at him as Blaine hands Kurt his phone back and Blaine knows that he did the right thing. In giving Kurt his number With a little wave, Blaine retreats back into the school.

Over the next few days, Blaine has taken to sending words of encouragement to the other boy. It's everything he'd wanted back before his transfer to Dalton and yet he feels that it's never enough. Getting the call from Kurt a few days after they meet doesn't surprise him but he is surprised by the contents. He'd been at lacrosse practice and had returned to the locker room to find that Kurt had left him a very disturbing voice mail

"Blaine...Hi, this is Kurt...I...I did what you told me to do. I-I stood up to Karofsky..." Kurt voice is frantic and he sounds winded as though he's been running. Blaine struggles to remember who Karofsky is before he realizes that he must be the bully Kurt had been talking about. Kurt's message pauses for a long time before he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "And he...he kissed me.

**New York City, New York June 2083**

"What?" Eli shouts, looking up at Blaine with wide eyes. "You can't be serious." Blaine nods solemnly. Eli shakes his head in horror.

"Wow, poor Granddad. He...he never really talked about getting bullied in high school. I mean, I knew his dad got really sick and he transferred schools but...that's all I can remember. Why on earth would anyone do that to him?" Blaine places a hand over Eli's.

"Elijah, it was a different time. The world was harsher, less accepting of people like us." Eli furrows his eyebrows at the comment but relaxes into the touch as Blaine continues. "Your Granddad was the bravest man I've ever met. He never compromised who he was for anyone or anything. I love...I loved that about him, but when we were in high school, it got him into a couple of circumstances he'd probably would have liked to avoid." Eli nods slowly, the question of what Blaine was referring to left hanging between them. Blaine sighs.

"We'll get to it, I promise. I honestly don't know why you're upset, kiddo. You know how it ends anyway. If Kurt hadn't been pushed around by Karofsky and the rest of those goons, we may never have met, you know?" Blaine allows himself to give Eli a reassuring smile. Eli returns it but that doesn't stop him from sighing heavily.

"True, true. Onward, I guess."

**Westerville, Ohio November 2010**

Kurt breathed in shakily before continuing "And it was...god, Blaine it was awful. I've never been more...more frightened in my life. I don't even know what to do right now. I just-j-just call me back when you can. I don't think I should be alone after...after this." The message abruptly cuts off and Blaine yanks the phone away from his ear to find out when the message was left. The hard-cut digital read-out says it's been an hour and a half since Kurt left him the message.

Blaine's head is spinning with the wrongness of the situation. This was not supposed to be the outcome of Blaine's advice to Kurt. He'd thought...he'd thought that if Kurt was able to stand up to his demons, maybe Kurt's story would end up differently. Where as his attempt to stand up for himself, for who he was, ended in a cowardly transfer, Kurt's story would be one of triumph and justice. He though that by helping Kurt he'd finally be doing the right thing. He tries to tell himself that no one could have predicted this but that offers little comfort. Before he can really think of what to say, he's already calling Kurt back.

"Hello?" a clear voice buzzes in his ear as he holds his phone in an uncomfortably harsh grip. Hearing Kurt's voice makes his worries ebb slightly. After a message like that, Blaine hadn't really known what to expect.

"Hi, Kurt. It's Blaine. I...why don't you tell me exactly what happened and we can go on from there, yeah?" Kurt sighs and begins to tell him what happened in the locker room earlier that afternoon. Karofsky had shoved Kurt into a locker for the hundredth and Kurt had positively seen red. He'd chased after Karofsky and demanded to know why he kept bothering him. Karofsky kept evading his questions, turning to insults. The argument got more heated and when in his rage he'd barely realized how much closer the larger boy had gotten to him until he'd roughly pulled Kurt in to kiss him.

Kurt tells him of the paralyzing shock and fear that rendered him horribly defenseless to the point that Karofsky actually tried to kiss him a _second _time. Of course by then, he'd managed to push him away and Karofsky stormed away like Kurt had struck him. And after finally managing to control the tears and make to his car, he'd called Blaine and then his father to tell him he'd be home shortly. When he'd gotten there, he'd went to bed without dinner and that was where he was now, in the present, talking to Blaine.

"Oh Kurt..." he whispers once Kurt had finished his story. "I...I'm so sorry. That sounds awful..." Kurt sniffs a little into the phone.

"Yes well...I suppose it could have been much worse. He didn't hit me at least." He laughs, a small bitter sound that makes Blaine flinch. It sounds too unnatural and callous to indicate any sort of joy.

"At least he hasn't yet. Let me have a talk with him-" Kurt immediately protests but Blaine silences him with a series of shushes. "It's okay. We'll do it in a public place. He wouldn't dare try anything with witnesses around. And, if you want, you can come too. I told you that you weren't alone, Kurt. I started this mess and I'm going to help you through it."

"Oh...okay, Blaine. Are you sure? I mean you really don't have to-"

"I'm sure Kurt. And yes, I do have to. No one deserves to go through what Karofsky did to you. Who knows, maybe we can help him come to terms with himself, yeah?"At this, Kurt snorts, which leads to a discussion of animal noises as Blaine attempts to show Kurt his horse noise. After that, the conversation turns into a lengthy debate over PETA's credibility and the destruction of fashion over the years - which, inevitably, leads to an hour-long talk about the merits of Alexander McQueen versus Christian Dior. Before long he glances at the screen on his laptop and realizes that it's well past midnight.

"Oh my, I guess I better get to bed. I didn't even realize it was that late and I'm completely behind on my moisturizing routine. So remember the plan?"Kurt asks, his voice much happier and lighter than it had been three hours ago. It makes something swell up in his chest that he couldn't quite place; to know that he could make Kurt happy even after the horrible day he'd had.

"Yes, yes. I'll be on the front steps of McKinley at three where you'll meet me and we'll subsequently gallivant away to right the wrongs of the world. Do I have that all correct, Sir Hummel?"

Kurt groans. "Indeed, Sir Blaine. You'd better get to bed, my little knight in shining armor," he teases, his voice cracking ever so slightly on 'knight.' If either of them blushes as they hang up the phone, it didn't doesn't register a bit.

They confront Karofsky the next day, but, naturally, the plan doesn't work out so well. They meet up with the bully in a stairwell that's rather heavily populated. Blaine comes right from class, his school-issued blue and red blazer a veritable beacon in the crowd of outlet mall polos and department store sale items. The students dart between Blaine and Kurt as they make their way to the stairwell.

"I've heard from Puck that Karofsky has Chemistry this hour and all the Chem classes are upstairs," Kurt intones quietly as they weave their way through the stampede of high schoolers. The bell rings and sure enough, they both spot the burly football player in his trademark letterman jacket making his way down the stairs. The conversation is brief and ends far too quickly to get anything accomplished. As a matter of fact, it ends with Blaine pinned up against the wall for simply suggesting that Dave Karofsky might, in fact, be gay.

For the briefest of moments, as Dave Karofsky forces him backward, Blaine's throat closes in fear. The action, the way Dave moves, is so eerily familiar to his own experience. He holds his hands up, yet again, in a mockery of self-defense that sort of makes him hate himself. _Not much has changed_, he thinks bitterly. But then Kurt is there shoving Dave off of him.

"You have to stop this!" Kurt yells at Dave, who stares at Kurt for a moment before turning and walking away without another word. Blaine is overcome with a sudden burst of affection for Kurt's bravery. Karofsky is easily twice Kurt's size if not bigger and after yesterday's assault, Blaine can't help but be awed in the light of Kurt's intervention just now. But Kurt obviously is not in the same mindset as Blaine as he sits down on the steps with a frustrated huff. Blaine tries to make light of the situation, something he's become rather good at since his transfer.

"Well. He's not coming out anytime soon," he says lightly, hoping to at least glean a pity laugh from his frustrated friend. Kurt stares pointedly at the ground, his shoulders tense with worry.

"What's the matter? Why are you so upset?" Blaine asks as he sits down next to him. They watch as more students pour down the stairs, hurrying to their classes, almost completely unaware of the two boys blocking the stairs. Kurt takes a shuddering breath.

"Because up until yesterday I had never been kissed...or at least one that had counted anyway." Kurt shudders at the memory. Blaine says nothing. There's nothing to say. Kurt may not have been beaten down physically, the way Blaine had been, but the complete hopelessness of the statement reminds Blaine too much of how he'd sounded after he first transferred. It broke his heart. But, once again, there was no where to go but forward.

"C'mon. Let me buy you lunch," he offers lamely, helping Kurt up.

They go to lunch and before long they're quickly monopolizing each other's after school time. They have more in common than there bullying problems and show choir. Blaine is amazed by Kurt's many talents. For example, his ability to instinctively know which colors go together when putting together outfits and yet him being able to fix Blaine's car with nothing other then a wrench and a few hair pins after a concert they attended at the Westerville performing arts center. They start getting coffee together, seeing plays and movies and concerts, arguing together over Johnathan Frazen's latest novel. and constantly surprising each other.

The truth was Blaine had never known anyone like Kurt. He was so unique among the friends Blaine had over the years. The conversation never dulled and their new friendship was unlike anything either of them had ever experienced. Both boys found themselves on the phone all hours of the night or lingering over cups of coffee and school work for obscenely long stretches of time. Nothing could dull the wonderful newness of the connection, not even the fact that their glee clubs were in competition. Well until the day they suddenly weren't anymore.

They had been on their way back from Kenton High School's production of "Oliver" and had stopped for desert at a small diner on the way home. They slid into a both, thankful for the warmth of the diner after being out in the new chill of the fall air. A tired looking middle-aged waitress in a faded black a-line skirt and red blouse quickly appeared to take their order. Kurt ordered a cup of coffee and a slice of pumpkin pie and Blaine ordered a piece of the chocolate cake he'd been eying on the counter of the bar since he'd walked in. As she left, they talked easily enough about the production.

"You know their costumes were positively stunning for such a small school, don't you agree? I mean all of Nancy's dresses were fantastic."Blaine laughed a nodded.

"Alright, I'll give you that, what'd you think of the music? I liked the way they did _Consider Yourself_. There was a lot of energy for such a small cast." Kurt grimaced and titled his head from side to side in consideration.

"Well, it was energetic but the choreography was also sloppy." Blaine scoffed and folded his arms.

"I still think it was rather good. But excuse me if the only dance moves I know are the—what was it you were calling it the other day?-ah yes, the 'shuffle and snap' and the 'squinty munchkin.'" Kurt laughed, loud and long, as Blaine stuck his tongue out at him.

"You know you making fun of my height is appealing. I've never felt so victimized, Mr. Hummel." Blaine said, clutching a hand to his heart, causing Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Yes well in all your perfection, my dear Blaine, there has to be some Achilles Heel. Just be glad it's only your height and not your height _and_ your ego. Trust me, we get enough short, ill-temperd ego from Rachel." Kurt smiled at him warmly just as their food arrived. The two were content to eat in comfortable silence for several minutes.

"Hey Blaine...I've got...I've got something kind of important to tell you." Kurt said, biting his lip. He set his fork down next to his half-eaten slice of pie and folded his hands in front of him. Blaine cocked his head in question at the sudden seriousness of his posture as Kurt drew in a deep breath.

"I'm transferring." He said, a hopeful little smile gracing his features. Blaine can't help control the grin that widened on his face. The idea of having his friend in classes, in the Warblers with him, is an exciting prospect but, as far as he'd been told in the past month, not exactly an option.

"Kurt...that's great and all but how? I thought you said tuition was too much for a transfer to be an option." Kurt nodded sipping on his coffee. His hair was caught up in a perfect sweep despite the wind outside and a soft green and blue plaid scarf was curled elegantly around his neck.

"Well that's what I thought. But you know how my Dad and Carol got married last week?"

"Yeah. I still wish I could've come. Stupid Warbler practice." Kurt smiles as Blaine pouts over the practice for the third time this week. He waves him off just as he's done all the other times.

"Really Blaine, it doesn't matter at this point, stop pouting. Anyway back to my story. They decided to use their honeymoon money as tuition after that last incident with Karofsky." Blaine nods sagely as Kurt glances out the window for a moment. He'd told him all about the bully's threats and they kept getting worse. Kurt's father even went in to complain after Karofsky threatened to kill Kurt if he told anyone about the kiss. The situation was literally at a stand still after Karofsky had been expelled and then readmitted in under four-eight hours.

**New York City, New York June 2083**

"I...wow." Eli says, dropping his pen a second time in less than two minutes. Blaine watches his grandson carefully for a moment. Eli feels everything so strongly and his revulsion is evident in his expression.

"Eli. Karofsky...what Dave did was wrong, but this story is over seventy years old. Things were different back thank and for Karofsky, Kurt was a kind of...catalyst for his own journey of self discovery." Blaine mulled it over for a moment, head tilting back and forth in consideration. "I'm not justifying what he did by any means-"

"Why do you keep telling me it was a different time?" Eli interrupts, eyes wide with confusion and second-hand grief. Blaine shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"Well...when Kurt and I grew up, the world wasn't exactly welcoming to different kinds of love. You obviously wouldn't see my relationship with your Granddad as wrong or unnatural now would you?" The revulsion is back on Eli's face but for an entirely different reason. He sakes his head vehemently.

"God no. You and Granddad are the most generous and compassionate people I've ever met. And the way he looked at you..." Blaine's pretty sure he's swallowed loudly enough for Eli and half the city to hear as Eli trails off for a moment. "It was like he was never really sure you existed. Like you were too good to be real. Granted I know differently..." Eli smirks as Blaine bats him with one of the small throw pillows next to him. "Ouch, geez Grandpa for an old guy your hits still hurt like hell. I'm just saying you two were soul mates. It was obvious." Eli is grinning again in the sort of far off way he'd done so often as a child. His bangs are falling over his right eye and even though Blaine knows Eli is on the very threshold of manhood he wants to hold him like he did when Eli was a baby. His chest swells with an entirely different emotion than the crippling sadness that never leaves his mind for very long. He feels...relieved? Grateful? Wonderful that Eli grew up in a world that allows him to look at his relationship through untainted eyes.

"Eli...I...I appreciate you saying that more than...more than you'll probably ever realize. But you have to understand that over the course of our relationship, there were bad times. We weren't always perfectly happy and the world we lived in never helped us on our way to happiness, that's for sure. But we persevered because we had each other, you know? And some how...well some how, that was enough. Now be quiet and let me finish. It's after nine and I'm old." He smiles and Eli nods.

"Yeah I guess so. Don't want you to turn into a pumpkin or whatever you do if I don't let you get to bed on time." He snarks. Blaine rolls his eyes.

"I think I like emotionally-distressed Eli better than sarcastic-about-to-find-out-how-hard-his-Grandpa-can-hit Eli, just saying." He shoots back with a grin. Eli shields his face with the journal, shaking his head.

"Okay, okay you win. I'm a lover not a fighter."

Finally Kurt tears himself away from his reverie and he smiles at Blaine again."I start Monday." Blaine grins back and, without really thinking it through, reaches out to grab his hand.

"I can't even wait. It's going to be amazing to have you at Dalton, Kurt." He says giving Kurt's hand a gentle squeeze. They both flush as the waitress returns to ask them if they need anything and Blaine draws his and away from Kurt's as if it's on fire. They thank the waitress who barely represses her annoyance as she takes away Kurt's empty coffee cup. Blaine rubs a hand nervously over the back of his neck as they finish off in silence and he picks up the check at the end. Kurt starts to protest but Blaine silences him.

"No sir. My treat. We're celebrating. To Dalton Academy's newest shining star." He raises his hand in a mockery of a toast and Kurt, laughing, joins him by pretending to click their imaginary glasses together.

"To new beginnings." Kurt says as they quietly exit the diner and head back out into the cool fall evening.

"Okay that's a great start, Grandpa. What do you say we pick up tomorrow with Kurt's transfer to Dalton, yeah?" Blaine nods and carefully pulls himself into a standing position from the couch, frowning as his back cracks loudly in the near silence of the room.

"Sounds good, my boy. This was...this was fun." He says quietly as Eli blows on the ink to let it dry before carefully shutting and fixing the leather latch on the journal. Eli smiles at him.

"Yeah...it was. Well, bonne nuit de sommeil bien." Eli says as he heads for his room.

Blaine can't help but smile after him. Good to know those french lessons paid off, he thinks to himself as he readies himself for bed. He pulls back the covers and reaches for the bedside lamp briefly before cursing himself silently for his forgetfulness. He digs under his pillow for a moment before retrieving the item in question: a fading old style Polaroid.

It's from the photo album Kurt made him their fifth anniversary. He knows there are better pictures of the two of them stashed away in several dozens of their photo albums in the closest, but right now this is his favorite. It's a picture of the two of them at the Hummel-Hudson residence for Christmas. They are standing pressed together tightly on the old couch in the living room. In Kurt's lap is the torn remnants of the blue and silver wrapping paper that covered up a collectors DVD set of the Rogers and Hammerstein musicals that Blaine had given him. Just as the picture was about to be taken, Blaine had wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist and kissed him on the cheek. Kurt's happy, surprised expression manages to lift his spirits and yet renew the dull ache of loss that is never far from his conscious mind simultaneously. With a heavy sigh, he kisses the picture and tucks it back underneath his pillow. He turns off the light and let's his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room before he starts the final part of his nightly ritual.

"I'm telling him about us, sweetheart." He whispers towards the ceiling. "I don't know if it's making any of this...I don't know if it's making any of this easier but it reminds me of how much I still love you. I'm glad we met that day on the staircase. I wish I'd have known sooner though. I wish I could go back and tell myself about what we did together, about the life we made. Because...because all the years we had, they...they weren't enough, Kurt." He feels the tears stinging in the corner of his eyes and lets them track down his face and onto the pillow. "A hundred years wouldn't have been enough, a thousand lifetimes and even beyond that couldn't even encompass how many moments we had left to share. I miss you more and more everyday. I love you Kurt. I will never, ever stop loving you. Goodnight." Blaine lays quietly for a few moments, ears straining for something he can't quite understand he wants. He can hear the muffled sound of cars outside in a city thrumming with night life and the faint sound of light jazz music coming from Eli's room down the hall. But what he can't hear, or rather, what he wants to hear,-_I love you too, Blaine_- never comes.


	3. chapter two

**New York City, New York June 2083**

The next morning, Blaine wakes to find the blinds in his room have been opened and the harsh sunlight is streaming through the small window as if in retaliation for allowing him to sleep so late. He groggily rubs his eyes and glances at the old fashioned white and gold wind-up clock that is perched on the bedside table. He groans at the late hour before his eyes fix upon the coffee cup on his bedside table. IA small green post-it note is attached to the handle and the cup is already filled to the brim with his breakfast of choice, a frothy Earl Grey Tea Latte. He carefully pulls the note off the cup and peers down at it. He immediately recognizes Eli's bold slant.

_**Good morning, my favorite geriatric idol. I've made a run to the store this morning. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised with the results. But for now enjoy your latte and you'll find the morning paper at the foot of the bed.**_

_**All the love in the world from your most beloved and cherished progeny, **_

_**Eli**_

Blaine chuckles as he carefully removes the note and tucks it into the bedside table drawer for safekeeping. He stretches and makes a grab for the still-warm cup and the paper before deciding that he'll take his breakfast out on the balcony. With minimal effort, he slides open the glass door between the living room and the rather large veranda that overlooks the city. He settles himself at the small glass and wrought iron table tucked into the corner near the railing and looks down at the bustling city streets below. A cacophony of sounds flies up to his ears, as do the various smells of the beginnings of the lunchtime rush. In all its familiarity, the city he had once embraced as his home always finds new sounds and smells to surprise him with.

He closes his eyes and feels the heat of the day settle on his face. He is suddenly reminded of a summer day so very long ago...

**New York City, New York July 2019**

"Could it seriously get any hotter in this damn city? If I took off anymore clothing, I'd be walking the streets naked. I'd doubt they'd accept that, even here," Kurt bemoans, setting his arm full of grocery bags onto the table and sending his keys skidding to the floor in the process. He swears under his breath and picks them up off the floor to hang them up where they belong next to the cordless telephone by the kitchen cabinets.

With an exasperated sigh, he crosses the length of the kitchen to the living room, a thrilling four feet, and plops down next to Blaine on the small leather couch they'd bought antiquing back in Lima while on spring break. Blaine looks up briefly from his laptop, where he is adding the finishing touches to his latest piece, a short but lively choral arrangement of Good Charlotte's "The Anthem"_,_ and gives his fiancé a once over.

Kurt's skin is flushed pink and he is currently decked out in a tight black and white striped tank top with a flowing black vest and white fitted shorts. His black gladiator sandals cling to his ankles and his hair is still styled impeccably despite the heat of the city. Kurt closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the couch. Blaine takes his time to rake his eyes over the pale column of Kurt's neck as it gracefully arches backwards. Blaine reaches out and traces a delicate line down Kurt's throat and tucks his fingers in the fabic of his tank top, tugging it away from Kurt's heated skin.

"While the rest of the city might not appreciate the view, there is certainly no one stopping you from walking around the apartment naked. I think that's an inspired idea, my dear - I may even join you," he says lightly, catching the quick upward twist of Kurt's lips before he remembers himself and pouts at him.

"Oh no. You don't get to be all cute after sending me out into the hellish heat that is New York City in July just because you wanted grape popsicles and white cheddar popcorn. I was going to go grocery shopping Saturday..." he mumbles none too kindly, barely cracking his eyes open to catch Blaine's reaction.

Blaine just shrugs and sets his laptop down on the coffee table. He tucks his knees underneath him and leans down to kiss Kurt firmly on the lips. Kurt hums in approval and kisses him back.

"Thank you for braving the fires of hell just to satisfy my junk food cravings," Blaine says when they pull apart. Kurt looks up at him and kisses him on the nose in response.

"Well it's not like I'm the one making bank around here right now. While my internship is good for many things, triple figure salaries right out of the gate is not one of them. Thank goodness for all these commissions,," he says, gesturing to Blaine's laptop. They don't talk about it much, but Blaine knows it is killing Kurt to know that he isn't contributing to their funds with his internship. While Blaine has been getting the odd commission here and there for his choral and instrumental arrangements, it's not an ideal situation for them. But Blaine had insisted Kurt take the internship because it was GQ and it was a big name magazine and it meant the world to Kurt so how could he not go for it?

Kurt smiles at him thoughtfully and walks back into the kitchen to unload the groceries. Blaine folds his arms against the back of the couch and rests his chin on them to watch Kurt's progress. He admires the way Kurt's hips swish ever so slightly as he moves about the tiny kitchen storing away his few purchases. Kurt catches him staring as he places a bag of flour

"...You remembered the Slim Jims too, right?" he says to cover up his pointed staring. Kurt snorts and lets out a loud bark of a laugh.

"Yes, my dearest, darling Blaine. I remembered all of your processed separated chicken and beef products." He tosses a triumphant grin at Blaine as he clinks the red and yellow canister in question on the counter with a theatrical flourish. "Ta-da!" he exclaims. Blaine rolls his eyes and grabs his laptop to continue editing the bass line.

"I feel so loved. You finally plucked up the nerve to buy me those. Remember when we first started dating and you refused to even let me buy them?" Blaine knows Kurt well enough by now to catch the lilt in his voice that signifies one of his signature eye-rolls

"Oh please. Just because I'll let you have them now doesn't mean the rule about the forty-five minute wait between consuming greasy, heart attack-inducing foods and kissing me goes to hell."

Blaine sighs and gropes around on the coffee table a bit before he locates the Listerine breath-strips. "I knew you were gonna say that. Now bring me a Slim Jim and come give me a kiss before you banish me from your sweet mouth for the greater part of an hour." He shuts his laptop and sets it on the floor next to the couch just as Kurt appears in front of him with the slim-jim in question dangling from his hand, as though even being in contact with the wrapper might burn his flesh.

"Oh baby, I love when you get all romantic," he teases. Blaine closes his hand around the wrist with the offending snack and pulls him down on top of him. Kurt shrieks in surprise as Blaine hungrily seals his lips over Kurt's own soft pink ones. Something warm and comforting settles in his stomach when Kurt instantly relaxes into the touch, quickly licking his way into Blaine's mouth. Their tongues brush together, all soft heat and tender embrace as Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt's thin waist. Kurt hums and threads his fingers into Blaine's damp, freshly showered curls. Blaine leans into the touch and presses them even closer together.

He pulls away after a moment or two and runs the back of his hands down Kurt's cheek. His eyes are bright and full of warmth and suddenly Blaine wants nothing more than to ignore the fact that his final revision is due tomorrow and spend the rest of the day in bed worshiping every beautiful inch of his gorgeous, _incredible _fiancé. He lifts up Kurt's hand, the one with the telltale silver band resting snugly on his ring finger. It's beautiful but simple, custom designed by the same jeweler who designed his mother and grandmother's rings. When—he still couldn't help but shiver in delight at the fact that is was now undoubtedly a _when_—they got married, a grander ring would slide and lock into place next to the engagement ring. This unique feature was one Kurt always found an opportunity to brag about to his friends, coworkers, and random strangers whenever prompted. He kisses the tip of Kurt's ring finger, then the ring, and then his hand, allowing himself to gaze deeply into Kurt's eyes.

"What did I ever do to deserve such a handsome, amazing fiancé? I don't think there is anyone alive who could possibly be in love with anyone as much as I am in love you."

Kurt sighs, high and breathy, and presses their foreheads together. "Well now that's a lie...," he says, his voice quiet, almost reverent. "You forgot about me loving you."

**New York City, New York June 2083**

"Grandpa...grandpa, wake up. I've returned from the wildness that is the farmer's market," a voice says from somewhere behind Blaine. Someone prods him in the shoulder none too gently and he moves to swat it away. "Oh, stop being such a grump. Bitterness does not suit you," the voice admonishes. Blaine cracks his eyes open to see Eli standing in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Go away, 'm napping," he growls and turns on his side, away from Eli. He hears Eli snort and walk around to the other side of the chair, getting down on his knees so that he's level with Blaine.

"Seriously, Grandpa? It's two o'clock in the afternoon and I scoured the farmer's market for the ingredients to make Granddad's famous Gruyere, asparagus and pancetta quiche." Blaine perks up instantly and grins at Eli.

"Are you making the fruit salad too?" he asks hopefully. Eli grins back at him.

"With the Cannoli Cream? But of course."

"And the string beans with the roasted garlic cloves? I love those..."

"Grandpa, believe me - I remember all the ingredient to your favorite meal. I've also picked up some loose-leaf tea and some of the German rock sugar you like so much. We can make some iced tea." Blaine makes a face.

"We? What about the youth respecting their elders? I'm your elder and I say you should show me respect by making dinner." He chortles sarcastically. Eli rolls his eyes.

"Yes, but dearest Grandpa I need your assistance for I am but a poor, uneducated youth. Now come on before the ricotta goes and spoils in this heat." Blaine scoffs at Eli's shameless pandering but eases himself out of the chair.

"Fine, fine. But I believe that thirty-four on your ACT begs to differ with the uneducated bit, sir. That and the checks I keep writing to a certain university in Iowa point to a bit of learning...wouldn't know anything about that, would you kiddo?" Eli sticks his tongue out at him and Blaine follows him through the glass sliding door and into the kitchen. Blaine grins when he sees the makings of all of his favorite dishes on the dining room table.

"Not that I'm complaining, but why are we making all of this just for us? I mean I know your dad will be working late tonight because he's on call and your mom is at a conference upstate." Eli shrugs as he pulls a bundle of asparagus from a bag, shaking off the water droplets that are clinging onto the thin stalks.

"I guess I just want to thank you for last night...you've been...you've been really brave about this whole thing, Grandpa." Blaine watches his grandson carefully as he carries the asparagus into the kitchen and places it on the wooden cutting board. "That, and I knew if I bought all the stuff to make your favorite foods, you'd help me prepare it because you can't bear the thought of me messing everything up with my atrocious skills in the kitchen. I'm not kidding, I seriously suck at cooking, Grandpa. I tried to make Becca an omelet once and burned the spatula to the pan." Eli turns to look at him with a sheepish smile on his face.

"And I didn't want take out again," he sighs. Blaine nods, grabs the block of Gruyere cheese and joins Eli at the counter.

"Ah, I knew there was a catch," he says when he takes the cheese grater Eli passes him and begins to grate shavings of the sharp cheese into a small bowl. "Why so manipulative, kiddo?"

"It's in my nature, I actually have no soul. In fact, I find no greater pleasure than creeping along the pitch-black alleyways of New York City at night and sinking my sharp fangs into the necks of unsuspecting innocents...oh wait, just kidding, that's not my nightly routine, that's a vampire's, sorry." Eli smiles licentiously as he selects a large knife from the knife block. Blaine shakes his head as he watches Eli slip the knife under the band of string holding the stalks together, flinching when the knife comes swooping up near the boy's face as the binding breaks.

"Switch. That's the last thing I need is to watch you carve up your face like a pumpkin," Blaine says, handing him the grater and selecting a smaller, more manageable knife from the knife block. Eli blushes slightly and takes up shredding the cheese down while Blaine neatly cuts the asparagus into bite-sized pieces. He takes out a pot and fills it nearly all the way full with water before placing it on the stove. He glances over at Eli to make sure he hasn't managed to injure himself before gathering the ingredients for the fruit salad up in his arms and depositing them on the cutting board. They both work in silence for a while and Blaine is almost finished whipping up the cream when Eli clears his throat.

"So, I was wondering...what happened after Granddad's transfer to Dalton?" The abrupt question causes his hands to tremble slightly and he gingerly sets down the whisk.

"Um...is this...is this for that book or..." he trails off awkwardly as Eli sets the small, hard end of the cheese off to the side. His bangs have managed to fall across his forehead despite his obvious attempts at bullying his hair into his normal, spiky style and Blaine notices his nose and the tips of his ears are faintly sunburned from his morning grocery excursion.

Eli shrugs noncommittally. "It can be, if you want. But I just want to hear some stories, I guess. Like how long did it take you to ask Granddad out? He always said that you were 'blind as a bat when it comes to subtleties'." Eli stares off at the edge of the table wistfully. Blaine frowns and dumps the asparagus into the now-boiling water in the pot on the stove.

"Yeah, I bet he did. I bet he always conveniently left out the part about how he looked like if you looked at him funny he'd have a mild panic attack..." he grumbles as Eli's mouth falls open in shock.

"Grandpa, he got severely bullied at his old school! No wonder he was skittish."

Blaine shrugs it off. "Yes, yes I understand that. But I'm tired of the whole 'dumb Blaine didn't get that Kurt liked him even though Kurt was practically painting 'I love You' on his eye lids' thing we've established in this family. How about we both just say we were equally stupid and naive, okay?" Blaine, who has now finished washing off the fruit, tosses it into the bowl and places the cream in a separate container to be mixed in later before storing them both in the fridge.

"Don't be mean to my fruit just because you made Granddad sexually frustrated," Eli mumbles. Blaine nearly drops the carton of eggs he's just pulled out of the fridge as he spins on his heel and stares at his grandson, mouth agape.

"Elijah Layton Anderson-Hummel, did you really just talk about your Granddad that way?" he manages, completely surprised at the casual shrug he gets in return.

"Grandpa, I'm twenty one, about to be twenty two. I kind of get that you and Granddad probably did a little more than sit side by side, hold hands and occasionally glance at each other lovingly over your evening reading. Hell, I remember one time you both came over and spent the night and I asked mom if someone broke into the house while we were sleeping because I heard all these banging noises and a little yelling and Granddad was walking with a limp the next morning." Eli gives him a knowing look but at least turns his eyes down at the ground while Blaine takes in his words.

"Good Lord, I can't believe you turned out relatively normal," he says after a long pause. Eli narrows his eyes.

"I'm just saying Grandpa, if you wanna talk about...that kind of stuff...I'm...I'm open to it. The idea of all this is to make you happy again. Just...briefly summarize as much as you can manage," he adds, his face blanching as he realizes what he's just given Blaine permission to do. Blaine runs and hand through his hair and finally manages to move away from the refrigerator.

"I'll spare you the explicit details, but thank you for being so...generous." Blaine pats him awkwardly on the shoulder as they go about their next tasks in silence. Blaine begins to mix together the eggs and the cheese for the quiche as Eli starts to peel the garlic for the green beans.

"But as for the whole 'sexually frustrated' comment...well, just know that the night we found out your mom was having a boy and we were getting our first male grand baby things got a little...wild." he finishes with a wicked grin. Eli's eyes widen and drops the peeler onto the counter with a loud clack.

"Grandpa!" he squeaks. "You can't just say stuff like that! God..." he moans, wiping at his eyes with his clean hand.

"You asked for it kiddo. I wouldn't exactly mess with your Grandpa. You really don't want the full history on your grandparent's insanely wicked, hot and—"

"Alright, alight! I take it back! How about you don't talk to me about sex ever and I'll try to forget what you just said later tonight with my friend Captain Jack, a shot glass and a long, private phone call with Becca," he shoots back. Blaine wrinkles his nose at the implication but agrees.

"Whatever, brat. I'm just saying, mess with the bull and you're gonna get the horns. Now go get me that tea you promised so I can let it steep for a few hours."

"Anything to get you to stop talking," Eli calls over his shoulder. He hands Blaine the box of tea leaves and watches with his head in his hands as Blaine carefully scoops the leaves into a large filter bag.

"So back to the subject of your obliviousness," Eli continues, clearly determined to hold onto the familial inside joke. "I get that Kurt transferred and it took you and forever and a day to ask him out. So let's fast forward to the good parts. What was your first kiss like?" Eli asks, waggling his brow suggestively. Blaine laughs and lets out a contented sigh as he drops the tea bag into the pot of water he just started on the stove.

"Well," he begins. "It was kind of like...well, have you ever thought about something for ages, something you really wanted to happen or expected to happen?" Eli smiles slightly and nods.

"And then, when it finally happens, it's like your remembering it you've thought about it for so long?" Eli nods again.

"Yeah, like my high school graduation. I'd always imagined I'd sit next to Trevor and Aaron when we got our diplomas. That and I'd play the National Anthem on my sax and Jenna would be valedictorian. Her speech was incredible.." Eli says quietly, a wistful smile settling across his face. "But, yeah, it felt almost unreal, I'd been waiting for it forever, it seemed." Blaine nods in understanding.

"Exactly. I never thought I'd find someone like Kurt. He made me want to be different...to be a better me. I thought I'd spend a whole lot of forever looking for someone like your granddad but then there he was. Settled at one of the tables in the common room and looking absolutely beautiful as always..." Eli shifts up to his elbows, enraptured with the story about to unfold.

"I take it that it was a good first kiss then?" Blaine smirks as he turns around to take the pot off the burner on the stove. He pushes the tiny straining bag full of tea leaves around the amber colored water with the back of his spoon and ponders the question for a while.

"Yeah...it was like all the things in the world that seemed messed up before that moment were suddenly alright again. It was...exhilarating, being that close to somebody. To be wanted by somebody." Blaine pulls the tea bag out of the water with the spoon and sets it aside as he turns to look at Eli. Eli's expression is seemingly far-off, eyes staring absently across the kitchen, fixed on no particular point. Blaine is used to seeing this expression on his grandson's face by now. It's not so different from his own 'thinking face' he suddenly recalls Kurt telling him a few years ago.

"So you knew then?" Eli says quietly, his voice barely approve a whisper. His tone is reverent, quiet as though he is being careful not to wake a sleeping child.

"Knew what exactly?" Blaine asks as he leans against opposite side of the counter. Blaine feels a flood of warmth well up inside his chest as Eli's gray-blue eyes fix on his own. They are similar enough to his Kurt's to evoke tenderness, but they also carry something raw and youthful that is all Eli's. That juxtaposition of two of the most important people in his life makes him almost take a physical step back in amazement. For the briefest of moments, all he can think of is _'We did this...we helped bring this life into the world. We did this together, Kurt.'_ The thought and the quick jolt of pain that comes with it fades when Eli speaks again.

"Well you probably didn't know you'd guys last for freaking ever..." Eli says, hands waving about a bit to accentuate his words. "but you knew it was important...worth imagining over and over at least?" Blaine tilts his head to the side in consideration.

"I knew it was important because being around Kurt changed me. I'd only known him for a few months and he was already my confidant. He just sort of swept into my life in this...this little blur of designer clothes and hairspray and creepy animal brooches..." Blaine trails off with a laugh and Eli quirks an eyebrow at him. "No really, they were creepy as anything." Blaine shakes his head as Eli laughs loudly, elbows slipping off the counter as he heads over to the cabinet to pull out a bowl. Deftly, Eli throws in a couple of handfuls of the cheese and begins to break the eggs against the rim, the sharp crack echoing in the silence of the room.

"When I kissed Kurt," Blaine adds carefully. "it felt like I'd already done it before, I'd dreamt of it so many times. I had worked myself up over something so simple as a kiss, that when it finally happened it was so simple and so...fulfilling that I couldn't believe I'd let myself go for so long without admitting I had feelings for Kurt. I may not have known right then and there what we'd become, but I knew that I had to let this beautiful boy know how much I cared about him." Eli nods thoughtfully as he adds in the bowl of asparagus Blaine had drained and cooled several minutes before, folding the asparagus in carefully as to not cook the eggs.

"I...I think I understand. So you kissed Kurt and that's how you two got together. But I know you didn't graduate from Dalton, so I'm sure there is a story there, right?" Eli asked as he transferred the egg mixture into the store bought pie crust. Blaine nodded.

"Ah yes, junior year. Yes I seem to remember a few things changing that year." Blaine said with a soft smile. Eli pushed the quiche into the oven.

"I guess it started with Kurt moaning and groaning all summer for me to make up my mind about transf-" Blaine started only to be silenced by Eli, who shook his head and held up a finger before promptly running out of the room.

"Hang on! Wait a second, I wanna grab the book for this one. This is_ too_ good. Start back at the first kiss! We're gonna cover high school over dinner." Eli shouted over his shoulder. Blaine laughed after him, pulling out plates and silverware to set the table. Just as he was setting down the glasses, Eli returned with the book he'd been writing in the night before, a pen and another book, embossed in a familiar red and white. Blaine eyes widened.

"Where did you...where did you get that? I thought we lost it when we moved into our new apartment a few years ago. " He asked, completely dumbfounded as Eli slid a copy of the 2012 McKinley High Thunder Clap in front of him.

"I may or may not have pulled it off the shelf when we helping you pack. I was sort of hoping to save it to blackmail Granddad into taking me to Milan with him when he went to preview the fall line in 2075." Blaine narrowed his eyes at him slightly even as a smile threatened to break through his appalled facade.

"Thieves in my own household, the shame!" he teased, wagging a reproachful finger at Eli. Eli shrugged his shoulders.

"Hey, I didn't do it though, did I? I forgot I had it until you mentioned Dalton last night and I went rooting around my closet for it. I also found a couple of pictures of you two from Dalton." Eli said happily as he flipped open the old yearbook, the spine giving a shuddering crack, and pulled out a few pictures that had been tucked into the front cover. Sure enough, there was a picture of the 2011 Warblers Kurt had gotten a copy of from the Dalton yearbook, neatly arranged into several rows, faces beaming at the camera. There is a picture of himself and Kurt at junior prom, arms wrapped around each others shoulders with Kurt's crown slipping steadily down his forehead. Next, there a shot of them pressed in close together on what looked like a school bus on the way to one of their show choir competitions and a picture of Blaine performing at Six Flags the summer before his junior year. Blaine pulled out the pictures and spread them out across the table carefully.

"Alright, you wanted high school. I guess since you know about Dalton and about Kurt's transfer back, we'll start with my transfer." Eli nodded and uncapped his pen. He waited patiently as Eli scribbled down a few notes before looking up at him expectantly.

"Okay, whenever you're ready." Blaine nodded and considered a good way to start.

"Well, like I was saying, over the summer, Kurt and I started talking about the possibility of me transferring to McKinley for his senior year. And by talking, I mean Kurt pouting and me forgetting what we were talking about because I was too distracted by how adorable Kurt was when he didn't get what he wanted..."


End file.
